the fire beneath my feet is burning bright
by ChocolateWonder
Summary: The tale of a Marauder, whose ability to love was shaped by several pivotal moments. Soulmate!AU


**Written for...**

 **Soulmate!AU Category Competition:** Everyone has a clock that counts down until they meet their soulmate

 **Last Ship Sailing:** (word) beneficial (emotion) scared (color) pastel blue, (dialogue) "Tell me I'm wrong. I dare you."

 **The Hunt is On:** A fic over 2,000 words

 **Dueling Club:** (dialogue) "It's not like it's that important."

 **Ouran High Host Club** : _Kanako Kasugazaki-_ Write about an engaged couple

 **OUAT Competition:** _Emma Swan_ \- Write about a Gryffindor

 **Friends Competition:** _S4E9 They're Going To Party-_ Write about a character who you didn't want to die.

 **A/N: I don't know what time James is born, so to just make it easier on me, he was born at midnight on March 27.**

 **Word Count: 2710**

* * *

 _Thanks to my incredible beta and wife Em, who is the Lily to my James. Love you darling :D_

* * *

 _T-minus 4,175 days and 11 hours- James is born_

March 27, 1960, around midnight, James Potter's wails echoed down the halls of St Mungo's. His proud and exhausted parents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, were huddled around him, admiring his features.

"He's beautiful, Fleamont," Euphemia whispered, marveling how someone in a time like this could be so innocent.

"He's going to be a ladies' man someday," Fleamont boasted.

"Fleamont!" Euphemia berated, but she smiled nonetheless. Her son was going to be a handsome and clever boy and girls would be attracted to him by the numbers.

She just hoped he would find the right one.

* * *

 _T-minus 3,810 days and 3 hours- James's First Birthday_

March 27, 1961, was yet another joyous day with their baby boy. Today was special, however, because it was James's first birthday and his parents were doting on him more than usual.

Of course, baby James didn't know what the fuss was about. He gurgled as Euphemia brushed his hair back fruitlessly.

"Oh, why did you have to get messy hair?" she groaned, "Of all things; my husband invents a product to tame hair and I end up with a child with uncontrollable hair."

She sighed as Fleamont entered. "What's the matter?" Fleamont questioned upon seeing her face.

"Look." She pointed to the numerous bottles of various hair-care potions on the mahogany vanity, including Sleekeazy. Fleamont laughed.

"Well, isn't he a rebel," Fleamont chuckled, ruffling James's hair, ruining Euphemia's futile efforts to smooth it and eliciting a giggle from the infant.

Euphemia eventually did learn a technique for James's hair: just don't bother with it.

* * *

 _T-minus 1,346 days and 2 hours- Christmas Day, 1967_

"Mum! Dad!" Seven-year-old James Potter bounced eagerly on his parents' enormous bed, ripping back the duvet covers unceremoniously. "It's Christmas! It's time to open presents!"

Euphemia shared a look with her husband, who was rubbing his eyes with drowsiness.

"All right," Euphemia relented, "but on one condition. You won't wake us up like this anymore. It is rather unexpected and rude."

James nodded absently, his mind already on the gifts awaiting him in the living room.

With his hazel eyes alight with excitement, he skipped out of the room.

Euphemia watched him depart fondly, shaking her head in amusement.

…

"Okay, this is from your father. We're both trusting that you'll be careful with it and not be reckless," Euphemia warned, "If you use it correctly, it will be extremely beneficial to you."

James nodded impatiently, his hands itching to tear the wrapping of the present into shreds.

"Go on." Fleamont smiled gently, nudging his son.

James needed no further persuasion. Scraps of expensive golden gift wrap flew through the air. His parents stayed at a safe distance, out of the line of fire.

"A _broom_!" James shouted gleefully.

And indeed it was, the latest broomstick model at the time, with its sleek, glossy handle and bristles groomed to perfection. James ran his hand over the broomstick, enamored by the power it seemed to radiate. His hand melded naturally around the handle.

"Can I go test it out?" he asked keenly, his hand refusing to leave the broomstick.

"Later," his father said firmly and James's face fell as he pried away his hand from the broom.

"You still have my gift to open," Euphemia pressed kindly.

James's face lit up and he began to dig under the mountain of scraps that had somehow not been thrown over his shoulder. Euphemia's present seemed to be buried at the bottom and he finally unearthed a box, this one smaller than the rest.

Looking not even remotely disappointed, James carefully unwrapped the box, sensing that there was something most likely delicate within the box. He pried it open.

Inside lay a...plastic ring?

"A plastic ring?" James repeated incredulously.

Fleamont hastened to explain. "See, son, this is a ring that has been passed down from generation to generations of Potters. Each Potter gives it to their special someone. I gave it to your mother when I was seventeen."

Euphemia gazed at her husband lovingly and the two stared at each other until James cut in, "Mum, Dad, what if I don't find someone?"

"I'm sure you'll find someone," Fleamont reassured him, "but until then, keep it somewhere safe."

James's head bobbed determinedly and he raced away to find a good place to store the ring.

The warm atmosphere evaporated and uneasiness settled in. Euphemia echoed the question that was formulating in their minds.

"What if he doesn't find someone?"

Fleamont responded grimly, "Let's hope he does, because I would hate to break tradition."

* * *

 _T-minus 0.5 hours- Preparation_

James closed his trunk as his mother's shouts met his ears.

"James, the car is here!"

He shouted a response along of the lines of "Coming, Mum!" and heaved his trunk towards the entrance.

"I hope you didn't forget-"

She broke off as she saw the trunk James was struggling to drag down the hall. "Oh goodness, let me help you with that."

James's protests were cut off as his mother arrived at his side and waved her wand. In one fluid motion, the trunk was levitated into the air, silencing James's objections.

"Now," said Euphemia in a business-like manner, "did you pack everything you need? I don't want to go through the hassle of owling anything to you."

"Yes Mum," James replied obediently.

"Did you pack socks? Underwear? Books?" Euphemia was clearly not satisfied with his answer.

"Of course, Mum, I don't want to borrow anyone's underwear. Why are you so agitated? Everything's going to be fine."

Euphemia didn't reply.

…

The drive to Kings' Cross Station was short, considering that the Potters didn't live very far. They had a ten-minute cushion, but that was not enough to ease Euphemia. Her hands fiddled with her bracelet.

"Drive faster," she urged the chauffeur.  
"Ma'am, I can't drive any faster, otherwise I'll break the speed limit," he said patiently, "Don't worry, we will arrive at the station not long from now."

Euphemia still seemed on the edge, but before she could argue further, James sneezed. Euphemia jumped; she'd almost forgotten that James was in the backseat.

She reached out and ruffled her son's untidy hair. "Why're you so quiet, James? Aren't you excited?"

"Sort of." James didn't elaborate. Euphemia looked worriedly at her son.

"What's wrong?"

Silence.

"James," she warned.

James released a heavy sigh. "I'm scared, Mum," he admitted, "I'm afraid that I won't be sorted into Gryffindor and I won't have any friends."

"Oh, that's natural, honey. When I was your age, I feared the same things you did." Euphemia tenderly patted his hair. "And you're much more prepared than I was. You're bright, smart, _and_ a talented Quidditch player. You'll have no trouble making friends."

"I hope so."

* * *

 _T-minus 0 hours and 0 minutes-_ _Aboard the Hogwarts Express_

A pretty redheaded girl was sniffling in the compartment. A boy with greasy hair and sallow skin attempted to comfort her. James was animatedly talking with his new friend, whose name was Sirius Black. James took an instant liking to the boy because he was nothing like his family. Tidbits of the girl's conversation with the boy floated to his ears, but he ignored him until something caught his attention.

"...better be in Slytherin," the boy said to the girl, who looked distinctly more cheerful from when she had entered the compartment.

James had heard many stories about iconic Slytherins, and not many of them were good. Besides, the girl obviously looked like a Gryffindor.

"Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

For some reason, Sirius looked grim. James glanced curiously at his friend.

"My whole family has been in Slytherin," he said darkly.

"Blimey," said James, expressing his shock, "and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius grinned lopsidedly. "Maybe I'll break tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James envisioned himself holding the legendary sword of Gryffindor.

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad."

The oily-haired boy grunted scathingly. Indignation and anger boiling inside of him, James rounded on the boy who dared to question his choice.

"Got a problem with that?"

The boy sneered. "No, if you'd rather be brawny than brainy—"

James opened his mouth to snap back hotly, but his new friend did it for him.

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?"

The pretty girl was paying rapt attention to the confrontation but finally decided that she could no longer be in the presence of these obnoxious, mean boys.

"Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment," she said loftily.

"Oooooo…" James and Sirius mocked her condescending tone, James sticking out his foot in order to trip the boy unsuccessfully.

"See ya, Snivellus!" the two boys chorused in unison and looked at each other in amusement and amazement. The door slammed shut, leaving behind two laughing boys.

The laughter subsided after a few minutes.

"Snivellus is a git, but the girl's quite pretty," Sirius commented, "I wonder how someone like her became friends with a wanker like him."

"Yes," agreed James offhandedly, his mind lingering on the red-headed girl. Sirius was right, she was indeed good-looking.

He secretly thought of the ring in his trunk but dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way the girl would be his future wife. No way.

* * *

 _Leap seven years into the future._

 _October 30th, 1978- The night before Lily and James's wedding_

"I can't believe we're getting married tomorrow," said Lily, nuzzling James's neck, "It seems like just yesterday we were on the train to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I remember that vividly. It was our first meeting. You were a cute little thing back then," he recalled fondly.

"Yes, and you were downright hideous," Lily said with a straight face.

James gasped dramatically, pushing him off of her. "I was not _hideous_!" he said, offended, "I might've been scrawny back then, but I wasn't _hideous_."

Lily giggled. It was adorable, seeing James getting so worked up about such a trivial thing.

James heard Lily giggling at his expense and swatted her playfully. This resulted in a tussle that lasted for only a few minutes, with James emerging as the victor.

The wind howled miserably and Lily shivered as she sat up. James wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Come with me, I have something that'll cheer you up."

He guided her to their shared closet, which was split in half, to avoid issues with space. Her side was neat, tidy, and organized, while his clothes were slung haphazardly over hangers.

Lily shook her head in exasperation. "Oh, when you will ever learn to _not_ be disorganized?"

"That's not what I brought you here for, Lil," he said, "I don't need your criticism when I'm about to show you something important."

Lily huffed, but nevertheless remained silent. James pushed aside a plaid shirt, revealing a little door with a tiny knob stuck to its front, housing the plastic ring his parents had relinquished to him a long time ago.

"Lily—I—" James faltered, unsure how to explain. "My parents—they gave me this ring—it's a family heirloom—"

Lily quirked an eyebrow.

"Alright, fine, I'll just show you, and hopefully that'll explain everything."

He carefully twisted the little knob, allowing the door to swing open. Lily's eyes zeroed in on the velvet box.

"I hope you're not proposing to me again, James Potter," she warned.

"As if the first time wasn't bad enough," he quipped, removing the velvet box and closing the door. "Here. Open it." He offered her the box. She warily accepted it.

Her eyes intent on the box, she lifted the lid. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. And she burst out laughing.

"A _plastic ring_?" she choked out, "This is the family heirloom? James, I knew you were capable of pulling good pranks, but for Merlin's sake, this is _pathetic_."

"This isn't a _prank_!" James snapped crossly, glaring at Lily, "I'm trying to be seri—I'm not joking around, Lily! Stop laughing!"

Lily's peals of laughter abated and her face adopted a serious expression. "All right, it's not a prank. Explain."

"This ring, it's been handed down from generation to generation. Each Potter gives the ring to someone special, like in this case, I'm giving it to you, because you're going to become my wife tomorrow."

Lily nodded solemnly; he had her undivided attention now. "So, this ring could be decades or even _centuries_ old? And you're proffering it to _me_?"

"No, I'm giving it to Sirius. Of _course_ I'm giving it to you; who else would I ask? You're the love of my life, Lily Evans soon-to-be Potter."

A brilliant smile slid onto her face. "Lily _Potter_ ," she breathed, "I'm going to have to get used to that."

"And I'm going to have to get used to calling you 'Potter' instead of 'Evans,'" James joked.

Lily threw her arms around his neck joyfully. "I still can't believe I'm marrying you tomorrow," she whispered, "When I was little, I always thought I'd marry Snape."

James pulled a disgusted face. "I can't stomach the thought of you wedding that git," he said contemptuously, "I always received nightmares about that and I'd wake up feeling hopeless."

"Lucky for you, your dreams don't always come true," Lily teased, her hands tangling in his hair.

"This one did," he murmured. His luminous eyes spoke of love, passion, and jubilance.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," she said, trailing one finger down his chest seductively, "Once we get married, we can do whatever we want on our honeymoon." She bit her lip coquettishly. "I had a _particular_ activity in mind."

James grinned roguishly. "I like the way you think," he said simply, his eyes lingering hungrily on her chest.

* * *

 _Jump one year into the future- December 1979_

"I'm telling you, Lily, it's a boy. He'll like it if we paint his room like a shade of blue," James reasoned.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Pastel blue?" she snorted, "What if it's a girl?"

"Then we'll change the color. We are accomplished at magic, aren't we?"

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Sirius poked his head in. "You two are still arguing? Just pick a color for Merlin's sake! Otherwise I'll choose one for you!" Sirius crossed his arms impatiently.

"We both know it's a boy, Lily! Boys like blues. Tell me I'm wrong. I dare you."

"He's right, Lily," Sirius inputed, "and it's not like it's _that_ important. Like James said, you can just redo it later."

Lily glared mutinously at James, then at Sirius, before reluctantly giving in.

"Fine," she acquiesced grumpily, waving her wand. The walls turned a shade of pastel blue.

James and Sirius performed a celebratory high-five as Lily stomped out of the room, muttering, "I'm going to go make myself a sandwich."

* * *

 _November 1st, 1981- The Aftermath_

November 1st dawned bright and clear, with no evidence of the events that had occurred just the night before.

In one part of London, Remus Lupin received a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and broke down in anguish and grief for his best friend and his wife. There was nothing in the letter that said their son was dead too, so he could only hope that the boy

Sirius Black, as we all know, went hunting for Peter out of immense rage, heartbreak, and the desire to seek revenge. He allegedly killed twelve Muggles and was wrongly accused of being a Death Eater. The Ministry gave him no trial and locked him up in Azkaban for twelve years before he escaped.

Peter Pettigrew remorselessly framed Sirius for these crimes and spent twelve years as a rat. He was rather torn up about James's death, but according to him, he had only ratted them out because his own life was on the line.

And the rest of the Wizarding community was mourning the loss of two beloved heroes but they were also celebrating Voldemort's death, with no idea that he would be resurrected.

But what of Harry? Well, he was already living with the Dursleys, unaware of his newfound fame.

The story of Lily and James was bittersweet. But their legacy lives on in their son.


End file.
